


Playing for keeps

by kat_fanfic



Series: "Tony gets backup" one-shots [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), NCIS
Genre: Bad Ziva David, Fluff and Angst, Godfather Rossi, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, McGee is an idiot, Post-Episode: s10e05 Boxed In, Pre-Slash, Protective David Rossi, Tony and Hotch flirt, kind of open ended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-06-27 11:42:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15684735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_fanfic/pseuds/kat_fanfic
Summary: The realization hit Tony like a ton of bricks. The whole team had been at Ziva’s the night before - even Palmer had been included - and as so many times before in his life, he had been made the odd man out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jane_x80](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/gifts).



> So this is for you, Jane, just because I love your stories so much. <3 I hope you don't stop writing for a long time!

The realization hit Tony like a ton of bricks. The whole team had been at Ziva’s the night before - even Palmer had been included - and as so many times before in his life, he had been made the odd man out. Even Gibbs had gone, for fucks sake.

As he watched Abby skip out of the bullpen with not a care in the world, he seriously asked himself how it was possible for her not to notice his distress. Was she really so oblivious? Or had the famed DiNozzo mask at last claimed Abby, too?

Tony took a deep breath and tried to let the hurt slide off him like he had done so many times before. This time though... this time, he couldn’t just shake off McGee’s smirk, felt the absence of Gibbs’ support like a physical blow.

He sat heavily behind his desk, biting back a groan as he tried not to jostle his injured arm. A scratch, Ziva had made it out to be. If you were inclined to call a graze deep enough to hit muscle a scratch, that is. The bullet hat taken a sizable chunk right out of his arm and it hurt like hell.

Sure, he’d played up the injury in front of Abby and McGee like he always did when hurt on the job, but it hit Tony hard that they didn’t seem to realize that it was as much a front as his happy go lucky attitude.

The EMT on the docks had put in a neat row of stitches and had given him strict instructions to let a Doctor have a look at it as soon as possible. Tony had opted for Ducky instead of the hospital, only to find that the older man had already left for the day by the time the team had made it back to NCIS.

Sighing, he resigned himself to an uncomfortable night with over-the-counter pain meds instead of the good stuff of the non-stupid-making variety Ducky kept on hand for him. 

„Hey, boss,“ he called softly across their little cubicle. „I’d really like to call it a day. My arm feels like it’s about to fall off and since I can’t finish my report without Ziva’s part, and she seems to be doing everything but writing it....“

Gibbs’ eyes narrowed. „Case isn’t finished.“

Tony took a deep breath. „You know, Gibbs,“ he said, going for lofty instead of harsh, „you should be glad I’m not taking sick days for this.“ He gestured towards his arm, rather than move it to make his point. „Less hassle, paperwork-wise.“ It was true. Sick leave for an on-the-job injury was bothersome to work through the system - and more than once before, Tony had filed it for himself to spare Gibbs the extra gray hairs.

Ziva rolled her eyes at him. „Oh, stop whining,“ she huffed as she stepped closer. „Typical American, making a fuss about nothing.“

Before he had a chance to protest, she slapped his arm, gripping it just where the bulled had torn his skin. Pain exploded in his arm, and for a second or two, black dots danced in front of Tony’s eyes. He must have made a sound, because suddenly the pressure of Ziva’s grip eased. As soon as he could, Tony backed away from her, clenching his teeth to hold back the pained groan fighting to escape. 

„Shit,“ he gasped, swallowing hard to fight the nausea. He cradled his throbbing arm to his chest and just concentrated on breathing. 

„You good, DiNozzo?“

Normally, Gibbs’ gruff voice would have calmed him, given him something to hang on to. But as the pain still screamed through him and Ziva watched him with narrowed eyes, as if waiting for him to stop faking, the tone grated in a way it never had before.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw McGee getting up to join Ziva in front of his desk. „Let me know if you need an ambulance,“ he said in a mock-serious tone, almost teasing, but with an edge to it that Tony was all too familiar with. 

Ziva snorted. „Yes, Tony,“ she emphasized his name as if it was an insult. „We’ll make sure that they give you the little-girl-special and treat you with kid socks.”

“Kid gloves, Ziva,” McGee corrected, grinning gleefully. “They’d have to treat him with kid gloves.”

Gibb’s lips pulled up slightly as he looked at his junior agents. There was no trace of concern or worry visible, and just like that, Tony was done. “Right.” Without acknowledging either of his colleagues, he opened a drawer and grabbed one of the vacation slips he kept on hand. It was pre-filled in already, signed and approved by Vance himself. The man was so desperate for Tony to take one of his accumulated gazillion vacation days that he’d given the slips to him a while ago with instructions to “use them whenever, Gibbs be damned.”

It had never occurred to Tony to actually take him up on that and go over his Boss’ head. Until now.

“What are you doing?” McGee was craning his head to catch a glimpse of his desk, but Tony ignored him as he dated and signed the request form.

Fumbling for his phone as it was actually in his right side pant pocket, he finally managed to pull it out and dialed a number by memory. It rang exactly two times, before it was picked up. “Nino?” he heard. “You never call from your work cell, are you okay?”

Tony cradled the phone closer, jealously guarding the gentle words from his co-workers. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Kind of not?” The sudden lump in his throat made it difficult to speak. 

“Kind of not, huh?” He heard, and then there were the distinct if muffled sounds of someone excusing themselves and a door closing. “Alright, kiddo. What’s going on?”

Tony cleared his throat. Speaking up, he made sure that he was heard by his curious co-workers. “I have a little bit of free time coming up and I was wondering if I could come for a visit?”

Before he’d even finished the sentence, there was an enthusiastic “of course!” coming from the other end of the line. “As a matter of fact, I’m in D.C. right now. Why don’t I come pick you up? You still at the Yard?”

Tony slumped in relief. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Let me know when you’re here.”

“Will do. Hang in there, kiddo.” There was a click and the call ended abruptly. Tony smiled to himself. Some things just never seemed to change.

When he turned in his seat, Gibbs was suddenly right there, hovering above him like a thunderous cloud. “I didn’t approve any off days for you, DiNozzo.” It was stated as a fact, but Tony was very aware of the warning in his Boss’ tone.

Tony bit back a scathing reply. The throbbing in his arm made him irritable, and the last thing he wanted now was a confrontation. “No,” he acknowledged, “but Vance did.” He held the slip up towards him. “Remember the little speech he gave, right after personnel sent that scathing email? They reprimanded the MCRT as a whole, but me they mentioned by name.” He said it proudly, going for his trusty humor even if he’d rather curl up somewhere and lick his wounds, both physical and mental.

Gibbs snatched the paper from him, and Tony held his breath. He wouldn’t put it past the older man to just rip it up and deny his request out of hand. At this moments, he had no idea how he’d react to such a provocation - though it most likely wouldn’t be with his usual shrug and quip.

When Gibbs did nothing but move to his desk, Tony breathed a sigh of relief. He slowly gathered up his things and shut down his workstation, wanting to be ready when his ride arrived. 

McGee and Ziva had moved to stand in front of her desk to watch him, neither of them even trying to give a semblance of doing any work. “It figures that Tony gets out of cleaning up a mess he helped create”, McGee murmured after a while, sounding petulant. “Again. It’ll take us all day tomorrow to get it all figured out - and it wasn’t even really my case!”

Incredulous, Tony flicked his eyes to Gibbs, sure that this little gem at least would garner some kind of negative reaction from their taciturn team-lead. Except none came. Tony’s heart sank in disappointment - only to beat up in double-time as a familiar voice cut through their little corner of the bullpen. 

“Not really your case? Really? That how you run your team, Special Agent Gibbs, by letting BS like that slide without reprimand?”

Tony’s head rocked around. He hadn’t even noticed the elevator arrive on their floor, but it must have because there he was, SSA David Rossi, in the flesh and with a pissed-off expression on his face that generally didn’t bode well for whoever had drawn his wrath. It didn’t help his equilibrium that just behind Rossi, Derek Morgan and Aaron Hotchner were clearly mirroring the sentiment and had taken position on either side of their colleague like an honor guard.

“Maybe it’s time for you to revisit that offer to come work for us at the FBI, Tony.”

Gibbs moved then, and before he knew what he was doing, Tony was on his feet. “Boss,” he tried to intervene, but Gibbs and Rossi were already squaring up, going chest to chest in a way that would have been funny if it weren’t for the fact that Tony could already see that him getting fired was probably the best outcome of this confrontation.

He cursed under his breath and rubbed a trembling hand over his face. A wave of exhaustion passed over him, and abruptly he realized that it had been almost a whole day since he’d eaten anything. At least the paramedic had him gulp down two bottles of water to counteract dehydration and help replenish the blood he’d lost.

His hip bumped into the corner of his desk, and he leaned back against it, grateful for the support. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the haze that descended upon him. The world was tilting and there was a strange sensation of weightlessness that he only ever associated with an injury of some kind. 

Strong hands suddenly gripped him round the waist, steadying him against the edge of the desk. Funny, he hadn’t even noticed he was slipping.

Tony blinked away the encroaching darkness and looked right into the concerned face of Aaron Hotchner. “Oh, hey Hotch,” he mumbled around a grin, holding on to the other man with his good arm until the lightheadedness receded. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Hotch snorted softly, and one corner of his mouth lifted in an almost-smile. “Apparently, Dave thought it appropriate to bring backup.”

From the way Gibbs and Rossi were staring at each other, neither of them giving an inch, Tony could appreciate the thought. He sighed, throat clicking as he swallowed. “Guys,” he said, hoping to stave off the argument before it really began. “I know you’re both very much Alpha males and used to getting your way, but can we just all agree to disagree--“

Gibbs sent him a vicious glare. “I will not let some Fed just stomp in here and tell me how to run my team. You should know better.”

“And you should know better than to let a junior agent run his mouth off like that,” Rossi interjected hotly, gesturing toward McGee, who had taken refuge at his own desk. “Especially when even a blind man can see that your SFA is on his last rope and in dire need of some R&R.”

“I resent that,” Tony objected without heat, speaking over Gibbs’ wordless growl. “I’ve got two ropes left, at least. Maybe there are even some more hidden somewhere, who knows. Ropes are sneaky. I won’t say no to some TLC to go with that R&R, though.” It was a testament to the fact that he was still kind of loopy that he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was looking at Hotch as he made that last comment.

The other man didn’t outwardly react to his teasing flirtation - he almost never did - but Tony was close enough to notice the way he slightly shifted his body towards him. Tony ducked his head to hide a pleased smile. 

Hotch said nothing, just proceeded to check out Tony’s arm, assessing the bandage carefully. “Through and through?” he asked in this soft tone that Tony had only ever heard him use with Jack. Or Reid, for that matter. Tony kind of liked that it was directed at him, even if it did make him feel rather damsel in distress-y.

“Nah,” Tony answered lightly, looking directly at Ziva as he did. “It’s just a scratch.”

Something like regret flickered across her face, but then she immediately firmed her jaw and her gaze grew defiant. 

Hotch pretended not to have noticed the silent exchange. “Dave, we better stop at the clinic before we take Tony on the plane. I know it’s a short flight to Virginia, but I’d rather not have to make an emergency stop.”

“Now, hold on a minute,” Tony protested, “it’s really not that bad, just a deep graze. The EMT stitched me up and--“

“Did a Doctor take a look at it?”

Tony gulped. That was Rossi’s ‘don’t screw with me, kiddo’ voice. “Well, no,” he admitted, “but--“

“Listen, Nino.” The profiler sent a last scathing look Gibbs’ way before he broke their stalemate to walk over to where Tony was still leaning heavily against Hotch. “I don’t know why you’re always trying to just will away your hurts - I figure it’s got something to do with the man who trained you.”

Gibbs’ teeth probably hurt, he was clenching them so hard. 

Giving Tony a soft pat on the cheek, Rossi continued to speak, even as he moved in to take Hotch’s position. “You’re not getting away with it on my watch. So I say we leave these bozos here to figure out their own mess. I want to know what happened today that gave you this,” he gestured towards his wound, “and made you smell like a bonfire at the same time.”

When everything suddenly lurched, for a moment Tony thought that he was about to fall on his nose. It took him a moment to realize that Gibbs had grabbed him and had manhandled him behind his own body. “Uh, Boss?” he asked, confused.

“I am not letting a bunch of overeager Feds take you with them, DiNozzo,” Gibbs growled, one hand hovering dangerously close to the gun he was still carrying. “Not after what happened last time.”

While it did Tony’s heart good to hear the protectiveness in that gruff voice, he was not about to let Dave and the others be treated like they were the enemy. “This is ridiculous,” he huffed. “Do you really think I’d be this friendly if I thought they were here to arrest me?” He saw Derek’s eyebrows shoot up and Hotch’s eyes narrow. He didn’t dare to look at Dave, but he suspected that there’d be hell to pay later for keeping that little fact from the other man.

Gibbs shot him a narrow glance but didn’t really relax his stance.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Gibbs,” he said, moving past him. “Meet Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner and Special Agent Derek Morgan of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. Guys, meet my Boss, Special Agent in Charge Jethro Gibbs, and Agents McGee and David.”

“The BAU?” McGee asked, looking stunned. “Why’s the FBI’s elite profiling team picking you up, Tony? Don’t tell me you’ve managed to get on their radar now, too.”

“Actually,” Derek answered, speaking for the first time, “Tony’s been on our radar for a long time, considering he’s been fielding annual poaching offers for almost as long as he’s been with NCIS.” He looked McGee slowly up and down, clearly not impressed. “Who are you again?”

Tony bit back a grin, amused despite himself. Derek had always been one of his most staunch defenders, even back when he’d been nothing more than Rossi’s pet project.

But when he looked at his colleagues, saw their defensive stances and stubborn expressions, he groaned in frustration. “Jesus,” he moaned, scrubbing a hand over his face, before he half-turned to glare at Dave. “This is all your fault, you know.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow.

“You said you’d let me know when you’re here, papà. I could have just met you outside and none of this woulda happened.” Tony knew he sounded petulant, but all he wanted in that moment was to get out of the fucking office and away from the judgmental eyes of his teammates. He wanted to hide out at Casa Rossi and have some of the older man’s famous chicken parmesan, preferably followed by a double portion of homemade tiramisu. He was more than done with this crap-load of a day. 

A soft sound of surprise drew his attention back to Gibbs. The man was staring at him as if he’d grown another head. Tony frowned, unaware of anything he’d said that would garner that kind of reaction.

The penny dropped when he saw Ziva mouth the word ‘papá?’ at McGee, her eyes wide in surprise. Shit. So much for that secret.

Rossi shrugged, looking decidedly unrepentant. “I know I did, Nino, but we were basically right around the corner and your security guard knew who I was and let us in without any hassle.”

Gibbs' stance had relaxed a little, but he still looked like he’d just bitten into a grapefruit. “Coulda told me your godfather was a Fed, DiNozzo.”

There wasn’t much Tony could say to that. It was a testament to the fact that at one time he’d trusted Gibbs enough that he even knew of Rossi’s existence. There weren’t many people in his life that did know about his unofficial adoption by one David Rossi almost two decades ago. He just shrugged with his good shoulder and quirked his lips. “Never came up, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Gibbs cleared his throat, and suddenly, the older man looked exhausted. “Make sure to get him checked out,” he gestured towards Tony, not quite looking at Rossi as he did. “Ducky was supposed to, but he had to leave early.”

Rossi nodded once, seemingly not quite willing to let go of his resentment.

Gibbs huffed and then gave Tony a half-smile. “What’cha still doing here then? I hear you’ve got a plane to catch. And as it turns out, I have some things to clear up with these two.”

The lump in Tony’s throat grew as hope swelled in his chest. Maybe things between him and Gibbs were salvageable after all. He didn’t trust his voice not to embarrass him, so he just moved to grab his things.

The bag was taken from him by a very insistent Derek before he could even attempt to shoulder it. At this point though, Tony was exhausted enough that he just let the mothering slide. 

When he walked past Gibbs, the older man put a hand on his shoulder. “See you in a week, Tony,” he murmured. 

Tony nodded and forced out a hoarse, “Yeah. Tell Abby I’ll call her.” He didn’t acknowledge the other two Agents, turning to go when he saw Gibbs’ nod.

“So, care to tell us what actually happened today?” Derek asked as they made their way to the elevators. He walked in front, quite deliberately so, with Hotch and Dave bringing up the rear and effectively putting Tony between them. 

“Got stuck in a shipping container for the day, with a bunch of counterfeit money.” Tony smirked as three stunned faces turned toward him. “Not a good idea to burn that, let me tell you. Stunk up the place like crazy.”

Rossi pushed the down button. His frown deepened. “You got stuck in a metal box when it’s just barely 28 degrees out, inhaled smoke for an extended period of time and then you got shot?”

Tony felt like he’d just made a tactical error. “Err,” he hedged. “Yes?”

“And still you thought not going to the hospital was the right choice? Did you even call Brad to schedule a lung consultation, or was that something else you would get to later?”

Scowling, Tony used his good arm to press the sling closer to his body as they stepped into the elevator. “What part of ‘I’ve been stuck in a metal box all day’ did you not understand? And it’s not as if I’ve had ample opportunity to make Doctor’s appointments since being freed.”

There was no immediate reply, but Tony could read his almost-Dad’s body language well enough to know that he was not happy with him. At all. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Really, papà. You should know me better than that. I do take the lung stuff seriously,” he said, just as the elevator doors began to close. “I already left Brad a message and asked him for a referral in Quantico.”

“You better,” he heard Hotch mumble and Tony gave a surprised start. It was always strange for him when someone voiced concern for him so openly. He was pleased though, especially because it was coming from Aaron. 

Smiling, Tony waited for the doors to close shut. The last thing he saw of the bullpen was Gibbs looking after him with a pensive expression.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your lovely comments, this is for you! <3
> 
> (also, this is terribly self-indulgent. Sorry.)

As it turned out, Tony was quite impressed with the BAU’s private jet. A fresh dose of painkillers, courtesy of the hospital visit Dave had insisted on, had made him kind of woozy, but that didn’t seem to be quite so bad when he could snuggle up in one of the jet’s comfortable seats, all cozied up with a blanket and one of Reid’s plush pillows.

His godfather sat in the seat next to him and was talking softly to JJ and Derek. Opposite them, on the other side of the aisle, Aaron had talked Reid into a game of chess - and was apparently winning. Spencer’s good-natured complaints about it all being a big scam on Aaron’s part had Tony hide a smile in his blanket.

“You know what they say,” he heard Derek rumble as his eyes slid shut. “If you can’t find the one being hustled in a plane, it’s probably you.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what anyone says,” Spencer said dryly. “In fact, did you know that…”

Tony must have nodded off, because the next thing he became aware of was someone pushing his hair back from his forehead. It was a familiar touch and yet still a rare enough sensation that Tony waited for the burning in his eyes to subside before opening them. “Hey,” he murmured upon blurrily making out Dave’s face hovering above him. “We there yet?”

He got a smile and another stroke of a thumb across his temple. “About to descend. You feeling alright? You’re a bit warm.” 

Considering that David Rossi was the one person he tried never to bullshit, Tony actually took stock of his physical condition before answering. He was aching dully, but the painkillers were still taking the edge off. He was tired and hungry, but not worse than he should be after a long day. “Feel better than I have in a while. And a bit of a fever’s to be expected,” he repeated what the ER Doctor had told him. “’s long as we keep an eye on it and I drink plenty of fluids. Should be fine in a couple of days.”

Dave grinned at him, dangling a bottle of water in front of him. 

Tony pulled a face. He was way too comfortable to deal with hydration. “Can’t I have some coffee instead?” he whined, trying to weasel his way out of having to move.

He got an eyeroll for his efforts. “No coffee for you, this late in the day. You can have some soda instead-“ Tony perked up, “-after you finish the water.”

He slumped down again, both annoyed and pleased by the parental attention.

“You better listen to him, Tony,” JJ commented, smiling at him. “There’s no arguing with Dave when he goes all Italian grandmother on you.”

Tony huffed. “Don’t I know it.” He managed to peel himself out of his blanket cocoon and took the water. It was surprisingly cool in his hand, and he frowned down at it, now even more reluctant to drink it. Of course, he did so anyway, not willing to invoke his godfather’s rather effective scolding. The water felt good sliding down his throat, and it was only then that he realized how thirsty he was. Still he forced himself to slow down after about half the bottle, knowing from experience that he was prone to getting sick if he drank too much too quick.

Dave was watching him, frowning when he caught him shivering in reaction to the cold water hitting his stomach. “I don’t like your color, nino. I think you fever’s going up. I’m pretty sure there’s a thermometer in the first aid kit in the back…” He was gone before Tony could do so much as blink.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t even muster the energy to protest, not when he knew that it was futile anyway. JJ was right - there was no stopping Dave when he got like this. He turned his head to share a conspiratorial glance with her, only to realize that she wasn’t sitting across from him anymore and that apparently, Derek and Aaron had traded places somehow. 

“Huh,” he said, scowling at the other man to hide his surprise. “Where’d you suddenly come from? I didn’t know you were a magician as well as a Special Agent.”

Aaron smiled and shook his head. “For an investigator, you’re not very observant.”

It was meant to be a tease, Tony realized that, and still he couldn’t help but be a bit hurt. He averted his eyes and murmured: “Didn’t know I had to be here.” His arm was beginning to throb again, and he grimaced, shifting in his seat. All he wanted was to be at Rossi’s already, to relax and nurse his hurts. As much as he liked his godfather’s colleagues, he didn’t know them well enough to be able to fully decompress around them - at least not yet. Even the usually exciting flirtatious, maybe-yes-maybe-no nature of his relationship with Hotch chipped away at his strength and he couldn’t help but wish for the man’s attention to be diverted.

“I’m sorry.”

Tony’s head snapped up. He was genuinely surprised by the soft, gentle words.

“That came out wrong.” Aaron gave him a crooked smile, leaning in close across the table between them. “Can you believe that I was trying to make a joke?”

Tony chortled, playing with the water bottle, unscrewing and closing the lid over and over. “Don’t quit your day job.”

Reaching over, Aaron laid his hand over Tony’s, stopping the nervous movement. He looked thoughtful, and a little bit chagrined. “Did you know that my security clearance is actually higher than that of Agent Gibbs?” he asked, finding and holding Tony’s gaze. “Which means that I can get access to a lot of things if I want to. I’ve read your file, Tony. The whole thing, front to back.”

Tony swallowed. Not many people had ever made the effort to read more than the abridged version. Gibbs had, that much he was sure of. Director Morrow. Maybe Abby, though Tony kind of doubted it. “And?”

Aaron gave his hand a squeeze, then he pulled back. Instantly, Tony missed the warmth of him against his own skin. 

“You’re a remarkable man, Anthony DiNozzo. Any team in any agency would be lucky to have you join them, especially considering your varied experience in law enforcement, and the fact that you followed through with your education despite being disowned and left to your own devices at such a young age.” His tone was matter of fact. It was very clearly Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner speaking, not Aaron, the man who might harbor a romantic interest in Tony. 

Tony considered the words. “Maybe I’ve peaked early,” he finally said, unable to help himself. 

“You took over the MCRT from Gibbs when he left NCIS, correct?” Spencer didn’t even look up from the two books he was reading.

“Yes,” Tony confirmed, a bit taken aback by the question. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

Looking up at him, Spencer cocked his head in a way Tony already began to realize was marking his Professor persona. “According to NCIS records, your team’s solve rate wasn’t significantly lower than it was before the change in leadership, despite being one man short. In fact, there have been less civil and professional complaints during your time as team lead than in any comparable timespan under Gibbs’ command. Records also show that in the last year alone, NCIS has received over two dozen thank-you notes specifically addressed to Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, or a variation thereof, including two marriage proposals and the birth certificate of Antonia Marks, who will be called Tony by her parents in honor of, quote: ‘the man who gave us our hope back’.”

Tony was aware that his mouth had dropped open, but he was too stunned to close it. “How,” he stuttered, swallowing hard. “Where’d you get all that information?”

Spencer shrugged. “It’s not like NCIS is keeping it a secret, especially for bragging rights in front of other agencies.” He eyed Tony in a way that made him uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was surrounded by profilers. “You seem surprised.”

“I,” Tony scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling all sorts of confused. “I had no idea. I’ve never seen any of those letters.”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Well, shit.” Derek looked mad enough to spit nails. “That’s just… They’re using your example in recruitment drives at local PD’s, Tony. I know Vance hasn’t got the best rep, especially when it comes to you, but I didn’t think he was that petty.”

“What do you mean, especially when it comes to me?” Of course, Tony had been aware of Vance’s tendency to underestimate, and even undermine him, but he’d always kind of chalked it up to being overly sensitive - after all, he’d had a great relationship with Vance’s predecessor, Director Morrow.

Derek looked uncomfortable and shared a telling glance with Dave, who had returned from his quest and stood in the aisle, thermometer held carefully in front of him. 

Looking up at his godfather, Tony narrowed his eyes. “Papá?” he scolded in amused exasperation. David Rossi was notorious for involving his friends in his familial matters and Tony was kind of used to it. That didn’t mean that he wouldn’t tease the man about it, though. “Did you talk about me behind my back again?”

Dave glared at the grinning faces around him. “It’s not gossip,” he said with dignity. “It’s called bragging. Sue me for being proud of my godson and wanting to share his successes. And if there’s a dig against an incompetent superior thrown in there, well, that’s just par of the course.”

Tony smiled down into his lap. It felt good, to hear praise uttered so openly and without reservation. It wasn’t something he was necessarily good at accepting, although he had sort of gotten used to it coming from his godfather. “I don’t really care about what Vance thinks of me,” he said, trying to change the subject. “He’s hellbent on leading NCIS into the bright future of technology, with Agents like McGeek manning the fort.” He peeked at his audience, kind of amazed that they seemed to be raptly listening to him. “What Vance is forgetting, though, is that there’s so much more to our work than do database searches or hack into a perp’s cell phone.” He shrugged. “In my opinion, basically anyone can learn to use any kind of tech given the right incentive. I did.” Not that anyone at NCIS knew the true extent of his computer skills.

“But not everyone is a born detective and able to pull a lead out of his ass like it’s a fucking contest.”

Taken aback by the language, Tony stared at Derek. The man was usually so laid-back that it always came as a surprise when he let his Chicago-bred street cred shine through. 

“Yeah, well,” he murmured, glancing out the window into the night. 

“Alright,” JJ exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Enough of making Tony uncomfortable. There’s something that all of us are dying to know, and since right now, neither you or Rossi can escape…” She cackled, making Tony laugh at her silliness.

“Hit me with it, Jareau,” he said, glad for the distraction. Dave still held the thermometer and Tony eyed it warily. He had promised to take care of himself, but having his temperature taken in front of the entire BAU was not his idea of family fun time.

JJ plopped down next to Aaron. “Dave never told us how he managed to be named as your godfather, when everyone knows how much he and your Dad despise each other.”

Derek grinned teeth gleaming in the plane’s soft lighting. “Come on, now’s the time to tell us, Rossi. You and DiNozzo Senior were mobsters back in the day, am I right?”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh out loud at that. The very idea of his sleazy conman of a father being a mobster of all things was just too funny. “You would think so, wouldn’t you?” he gave Rossi a wink, chuckling when the man rolled his eyes. “Nah, Dave actually had a thing with my mom, just before she met my father. They somehow managed to stay friends, even through the epic fights about her new beau being a screw-up and a gold digger.”  
What he didn’t say was that insisting on Dave being his godfather was the one good thing his mother had ever done for him. Screw the trust-fun he’d received from her side of the family - he’d have given up every cent to be able to live with Dave full-time at any point in his childhood. “He could have been my dad, had the timing been a little different.” It came out more wistfully than he’d intended.

There was understanding in Reid’s eyes, more of it than Tony was used to seeing. It made sense, though, because if anyone could understand the challenge of a childhood spent with an unreliable parent (or two, in Tony’s case), it was Spence.

Just then, the announcement from the pilot came that they were about to start their final descend. Everyone scrambled to get buckled in, a feat that was made harder for Tony by all the things he had accumulated during the flight and the fact that he couldn’t move his right arm much. 

“Here,” Hotch murmured, leaning over to take the seatbelt from Tony. “Let me.”

Fighting a squirm, Tony let him snap the buckle, trying very hard not to blush or make this awkward. And when Aaron had pulled away again, for the rest of the flight, Tony was very preoccupied with not reading too much into the small smile Aaron had flashed at him, or the way his touch had lingered for a second.

After they had landed, Dave tried to call him a cab and send him home, while the team had to check in at the Bureau but despite his exhaustion, Tony wasn’t keen on being alone at the house. “I wanna say hello to Penny,” he weaseled, making big eyes at his godfather. 

Rossi huffed an expletive under his breath but caved when Tony agreed to take another painkiller and drink a second bottle of water. Ten minutes later, he sat in one of the FBI’s nondescript agency cars sharing the backseat with Hotch, while Dave had claimed the front seat.

There was a certain gleam in his godfather’s eyes that didn’t bode well for Tony’s peace of mind. “So, my Tony here is kind of a self-proclaimed movie expert,” Dave said, á propos of nothing, not two minutes into the drive. “Aaron, you like movies, right?”

Tony groaned, hiding his face in his good hand. “Jesus,” he murmured, both embarrassed and amused. 

Aaron was laughing softly. “I do,” he said, grinning at Tony. “Movies are good.”

“Crap.” The horrible realization had just hit Tony that he was about to be set up on a date by his dad. “Can we please not do this?” he pleaded. “Let’s talk about something else, anything else, okay, pretty please?”

“Alright.” Dave sounded smug. “Let’s talk about what happened at NCIS instead.”

Shit. He’d been set up. Playing dumb, Ton blinked at Dave who had turned his head to see his reaction. “Talk about what?”

Rossi just looked at him. Tony looked back, letting the silence between them stretch. It wasn’t the first time they’d had a battle of wills like that, and there wasn’t even much tension between them. Sometimes his godfather’s desire to take care of him just sort of clashed with Tony’s fierce sense of independence, and it usually took a little while for them to come to an agreement. 

This time, it was Hotch that facilitated it. “You don’t have to tell us anything if you don’t want to, Tony,” he murmured in that calm way he had. There was no trace of amusement anymore, though his eyes were kind. “Just keep in mind that what we’ve witnessed of your team dynamics was…” he trailed off, visibly trying to come up with a non-offensive way of saying it. 

Tony sighed. “Toxic?”

Aaron let out a sharp breath. “Very much so, yes.”

It wasn’t something he’d never thought before himself, but hearing Aaron say it out loud made it real in a way his doubts hadn’t.

Dave didn’t have his friend’s qualms about being blunt. “Look, Tonio, I know you think the world of Gibbs, and that he’s personally important to you. But what he’s done with the MCRT is a farce of what it should be. Playing his junior agents against each other, undermining his SFO’s authority… The man’s probably even thinking that what he’s doing is generating results, but of what I’ve seen, the team is succeeding despite his methods, not because of them.”

The words, well-meant as they were, hit Tony just as hard as Ziva’s little dinner game had. In his mind, Gibbs had been near-infallible for so long, that letting his doubts creep in now felt almost akin to betrayal. Not an easy pill to swallow for the loyal St. Bernard side of him, yet he couldn’t help but think that maybe it was time to revisit those job offers he’d received over the years. 

It didn’t take long for them to arrive at the FBI building in Quantico. Still, Tony was glad when the car finally came to a still, if only to escape Aaron’s concerned side-glances. He was interested in the man, sure, even wanted to share things with him in the long run, but it felt wrong to be this vulnerable so soon.

Fortunately, the moment he stepped foot on the main floor, a colorful whirlwind came right at him, driving any dark thoughts away.

“Tony!”

He braced himself. Penelope Garcia was a force to be reckoned with - very much like a certain Goth he knew - and he prepared himself for a boisterous greeting. But unlike Abby, who had little impulse control especially when it came to physical contact, Penelope slowed down as soon as she got a good look at him, outstretched arms falling back down. “Oh, hello there my sweet Nuzzlebear,” she greeted him cheerfully, even as her forehead creased in concern. “You kind of look like crap.”

Glancing around, Tony tried to keep his blush from being seen. He at one point had tried very hard to dissuade her from using that particular nickname. Unfortunately, it had stuck despite his best efforts. “I wish you’d stop calling me that, Penny.”

“As long as your name is Anthony DiNozzo, you’re going to be my Nuzzlebear,” she grinned, unrepentant.

Tony grinned, leaning down to pull her into a hug. “I’m not going to change it to Rossi anytime soon, sorry to disappoint.”

She huffed in his ear, using the opportunity to press a kiss on his cheek. When she pulled back, her eyes widened as she noticed the careful way he held his arm. “Did you get shot?”

Tony grimaced. “A little bit, yeah.”

“A little bit!” she exclaimed, glaring at someone behind him. “David Stephen Rossi, there better be a good reason for not giving me the heads-up on this. I would have prepared my special get-well-soon package if I’d known.”

Having been on the receiving end of that before after his stint with Y-Pestis, Tony couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed as well. “Maybe you could make it now?” he asked hopefully.

She nodded. “Of course! I’ll even add some of my homemade raspberry jam. It’s Derek’s favorite, so I just made a new batch.”

He grinned at Morgan’s disgruntled face and pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek. 

As it turned out, Penelope had already turned in her part of the report. “Perks of being a stay-at-home tech,” she’d gleefully said, and so she was free to entertain Tony while the other members of the BAU turned in theirs. 

It didn’t take as long as he would have thought, but then Hotch wasn’t the slave driver he himself was used to and only insisted on the basics after the long day.

“Ready to go?”

Tony nodded at his godfather, accepting the brief grip to the back of his neck. He was watching Aaron talk quietly with Reid, appreciating the man’s calm professionalism even more than his good looks. 

When a smile lit up his face, Tony’s heart jumped in his chest. “Aaron?” he blurted out, taking a step towards the other man. “Do you, uh,” he floundered. 

Every head on the floor had turned in their direction, watching them. Great going, he thought. Make a spectacle out of this, why don’t you.

But the BAU had his back. Derek was busy glaring the gawkers into submission and Reid had pulled JJ and Penelope to his side, blocking Tony and Hotch from view.

Sucking in a deep breath, Tony shot Aaron an apologetic smile. “Sorry about this. I kind of didn’t think this through.” Story of his life, basically. “But yeah, uh, do you maybe want to get a coffee with me sometime? I mean outside the break room.”

Aaron’s lips quirked. “I could be persuaded,” he answered softly. “Why don’t we make it dinner and a movie instead? I heard you’re quite the cinema connoisseur and I happen to know a charming little theatre that’s showing a Cary Grant special this week.”

Warm anticipation flooded him, and it was such a novel feeling that he took a moment just to bask in it. “It’s a date,” he murmured.

Aaron nodded, stepping closer. “I hope so.”

They didn’t kiss right then, too aware of their audience. But for a moment they shared the same air between them, and then Aaron winked at him, dead pan, and turned away. Tony grinned at the ground, aware of the flush staining his cheeks. 

“You okay?”

Tony looked at Dave, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. “Yeah. Let’s go home. I kind of remember being promised lasagna?”

Dave laughed and gave him a careful nudge. “Come on, you bottomless pit. I’m not an Italian worth my salt if I can’t my own godson fed.”

Glancing back at Aaron and the rest of the BAU, Tony exhaled. Maybe it really was time to move on. The thought didn’t hurt as much as it probably would have even a few hours ago. 

Smiling, he followed his godfather.


End file.
